Else was surprised by her tone. “I expect.” He could not focus. But he did not want to fall asleep.
“Would he appoint this felon because of his character? Counting on this fire-breathing count to serve up an excuse for a crusade?” Sleepily, Else said, “I hadn’t thought of that. He could do it.” His eyelids had lead weights riding them. Anna said, “Go ahead and nap. I’ll fix something.” He heard no more.
***
ANNA POKED ELSE. HARD. “WAKE UP!”
Else sprang up, momentarily disoriented and confused and on the verge of panic. “What?”
“You were moaning and talking. Even yelling.”
“I was having a dream.”
“Must’ve been ugly.”
“Uh... I don’t know. For sure. It had to do with when I was little. My mother... my sister...” He did not admit that he had been having these bad dreams occasionally since witnessing the destruction of those Instrumentalities beneath the wall of al-Khazen.
Nor were the nightmares unique. Others who had been there were suffering similar night troubles. Gledius Stewpo had committed suicide.
He hoped time would work its cure and the awful, agonizing memories would subside into the darkness where they had lain quiescent for decades.
He did not want those memories back. Not for a moment. There was too much pain back in the deepest depths of the past. Much better to square up to the future, work to exhaustion, and forget all that.
“Are you all right now?”
“I’m fine. I don’t know why my mind started throwing this stuff up. Not much scares me. This does.”
Anna reflected for a moment. “Maybe it’s coming back because you’re afraid you’re losing your family again.”
“Huh?”
“It must be awful to be kidnapped and sold when you’re practically still a baby.” Anna knew most of his story now. “You really attached yourself to your training school family. And now you’re afraid your surrogate father and Sha-lug family have rejected you.”
Else stared at her, trying to follow her thinking, hating it, wanting to counterattack, and, yet, feeling that her bolt had struck near the bull’s-eye. “I’d rather not talk about it anymore. Is supper ready?”
“That’s why I woke you up. It’s on the table. Getting cold.”
“Let’s go, then. I’m famished.”
***
THE DREAMS WERE THERE AGAIN. ELSE WAS WITHIN MOMENTS of getting a direct look at the faces of his mother and
sister. Heris? No father ever entered these harsh dreams.
Anna interrupted again. Again, he came up out of sleep confused and uncertain of his whereabouts. He clutched the covers as though they would shield him from an internal bridgehead of the Night.
“There’s a man on the stoop who insists that he has to see you right now.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. He won’t say. In a heavy accent. He claims it’s important. He won’t go away. So you go decide. And get rid of him fast. You’ve still got work to do here.” She punctuated with a brazen pelvic thrust.
***
STILL SHAKING THE COBWEBS OUT, ELSE OPENED THE FRONT door. He expected a messenger from the Castella driven by yet another nonemergency that nobody wanted to risk making a decision concerning. Instead, the visitor was someone he did not know. “Yes? You are? And how can I help you?”
The visitor had escaped his teens not long ago, yet possessed the wary eyes of a veteran. He was handsome in a blue-eyed, Nordic way. Else noted small scars beneath his right eye and on the back of his left hand. He clicked his heels and bowed his head minutely, a noble acknowledging the accomplishments of a warlord who had risen from an inferior station.
“Ritter fon Greigor, at your service, Captain-General.”
Interesting. That news had not yet been made public. Greigor had inside connections. The name and accent said Grail Empire. The inside knowledge suggested a connection with Ferris Renfrow.
“Ritter fon Greigor. How can I be of service at this time of night?”
Greigor betrayed a flash of irritation. “I’ve brought a packet of communications. By command.” He produced a fat leather wallet bearing the Imperial seal.
Else accepted it warily.
Greigor waited briefly, as though expecting Else to read any letters and offer an immediate response. Else asked, “Is there something more?”
Again, Greigor seemed piqued. He had a superior opinion of himself. A veteran, true, but of what? Those scars might have been caused by dueling, not a war.
With obvious reluctance, the Imperial presented a second wallet. This was slim, old, worn, and bore a barely discernible crest of the House of Fracht and Thurnen, creators and operators of postal concessions throughout the Empire and much of the Chaldarean west.
Else accepted the second wallet.
Greigor said, “Responses can be presented at the Penital any time during the next three days. Then I’ll return to Plemenza.” He clicked heels, nodded, turned to indicate that his visit was over.
Else let him out. A coach and bodyguards awaited him. “What was it?” Anna asked as Else locked up. Else was sure she had eavesdropped. “Imperial mail. Not something that couldn’t have waited.” And maybe have been noticed by day. “That letter carrier had an exaggerated notion of his own importance.”
“The sea routes from Dreanger are open again. I picked up some coffee this morning. Should I brew some?”
“That would be marvelous.” He settled into a comfortable chair, stared at the two mail wallets. Nervously. Reluctant to open them because of what might lie within.
The fatter, official packet proved to contain letters from Emperor Lothar and Ferris Renfrow, the latter not surprising. That the boy was inclined to write, though, was.
The second wallet contained what Else truly dreaded. A letter from Helspeth Ege. A missive in a clear, confident hand that, he was certain, had been opened — an eventuality anticipated by Helspeth. There was little of substance in the text. An expression of abiding gratitude for his timely assistance at al-Khazen. A few words of concern about her brother’s health. Gratitude for his return. Then shallow meanderings of a sort to be expected of a girl of privilege who was unaware that the rest of the world might not be privileged. The real message lay beneath the text. Its author was lonely and frightened.
The writing of the letter was a powerful message in itself.
Else cautioned himself. This was just a spurt of romantic nonsense from a spoiled child. Helspeth had heard too many Connecten jongleurs sing their ballads of love. True love was the tale of Gedanke and Arlensul. But he could not quite stifle the excitement the letter caused.
Anna returned with coffee. “What’s all that about?”
“The head imperial spy trying to recruit me again. The new emperor thanking me for helping him escape. His sister thanking me for rescuing her band from the undead warriors that attacked them.”
“I thought you were saving Pinkus.”
“Sure. But I don’t have to tell her that do I? Anyway, none of it was anything that had to be dealt with right away.” There was, of course, Helspeth’s brief and indirect mention of her brother’s illness. That suggested a potential for major future dangers.
“Then he had some other motive for bothering you here.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Because he wanted to see me? Or because he wanted to find out how vulnerable you might be here?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll find out. Let me finish seeing what Renfrow says, then I’ll see about finishing that special task you had for me.”
“Ooh! Read fast then, lover.”
Else read fast. And did not like what he read.
Lothar meant to continue the Imperial alliance with Sublime V. In exchange for Sublime remaining solidly behind the established Ege succession.
“Finished?”
He told Anna what she wanted to hear. “I’ve only just begun, darling.” Thinking
about Helspeth Ege.
About the Author
The author of many novels of fantasy and science fiction, including the bestselling Annals of the Black Company series, Glen Cook lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
Glen Cook, The Tyranny of the Night
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